


Colonel Mustard in the Billiards Room with the Revolver

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/F, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: Loki has been murdered while attending a "Penalty Dinner" in Avenger's Tower at Tony Stark's insistence. It's up to Darcy Lewis to follow the clues and solve the crime!One of two fics I wrote as part of the Penalty Dinner challenge at The Darcyverse on Discord.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: Darcy With the Pen in the Discord





	Colonel Mustard in the Billiards Room with the Revolver

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Penalty Dinner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229050) by [amidtheflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers), [AnnieMar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieMar/pseuds/AnnieMar), [leftennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant), [Sigridhr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigridhr/pseuds/Sigridhr). 



> The intro ficlet explaining the circumstances can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Clue/works/25229050).
> 
> These drabbles were written one at a time in order to earn guesses for a game of Clue. Every drabble had to contain the name of the suspect, the weapon they used, and the location in the Tower. The last one here wasn't required by the event, but was my way of wrapping up the game to give my guess at a solution (which turned out to be the right one).

Darcy struggled to keep her pace sedate as she made her way down the hall. If it was going to come down to an evening of investigation there was one thing she knew she needed for sure: sensible shoes. Most people would think she kept her spare pair somewhere in the lab, but she’d lost enough cute flats and comfy sneakers to the ravages of explosions fueled on scientific guesswork and sleep deprivation. After the fourth pair melted to a countertop Pepper had insisted that she stash an extra pair in her office.

She closed the office door behind her and sagged against it. This night had gone from one of Tony’s more irritating fits to a complete nightmare. If one of the others out there was a murderer Darcy was in trouble. She was the only one that didn’t have either some kind of super ability or crazy specialized training. If she did manage to figure out who had finally gotten annoyed enough at Loki to whack him she had about a zero percent chance of surviving them trying to shut her up for it.

A bin in the bottom drawer of a cabinet behind Pepper’s desk held her converse, some cute ballet flats with a rhinestone kitten on the toe, and an emergency pair of heels that she’d decorated herself. She swapped her dinner heels for the converse without ever turning on the light, then reached for a lamp when she banged her knee trying to get up from behind the desk.

The suspiciously messy desk.

To door banged open the moment she noticed something off, and Darcy shouted as she flung herself backwards into the cabinet. Natasha Romanov stood in the doorway, a blank stare on her face. Darcy’s eyes tracked over the other woman, taking in the lethal tilt of her figure all the way down to the weaponized bracelets sparking at her wrists. Darcy knew for a fact that those spider bites could be lethal. Why had Natasha come to Pepper’s office first? She didn’t store shoes there. Her stomach sank, and part of Darcy was sure she’d stumbled on the messy desk that was going to be the reason for her death.

_**~*~*~*~*~*~** _

“Shoes,” Natasha muttered, her skeptical expression morphing into a smile. “Of course you came in search of better shoes.” She came into the room and closed the door behind her only to stop short when Darcy pressed further back. Natasha crossed her arms. “Solnyshka, we have been dating for months. Surely by now you know that I’d clue you in if I were going to try my hand at Asgardian god slaying.”

Her cheeks warming, Darcy tried to appear nonchalant. “I knew that,” she insisted. “I wasn’t even sure it was you. I just saw the messy desk and thought the murderer might have killed him here then come back to cover it up. Wrong place, wrong time. It could have been my end.”

“Sounds very dangerous,” Nat agreed. She placed her hands on the front of Pepper’s desk and leaned across it until Darcy closed the distance to give her a quick kiss. “I came to find you because I believe I’ve found a clue. There are scorch marks across a wall in the lounge. The kind that come from magic.”

“Magic?” Darcy blinked, the pieces falling into place. “But with Loki dead the most likely person to use magic would be Wanda.”

_**~*~*~*~*~*~** _

“That was my thought as well,” Natasha agreed. “But I’m fairly certain the scorch marks came from an incident this morning.” She tilted her head up to the ceiling. “JARVIS, can you please confirm?”

“Yes, Agent Romanov,” JARVIS said amiably. “I can confirm that Miss Maximoff scorched the wall above the fireplace when she was startled by Agent Barton just this morning. It is not the result of any ill intent.”

Darcy sagged again. “This investigation thing is hard work. Let’s go get a drink.”

“Whatever you like, solnyshka.”

They talked quietly to one another as they made their way to the bar. Darcy was pretty sure whatever had happened to Loki didn’t occur there, but at the very least she could have a drink and calm her clearly overactive nerves. She sidled behind the bar and set to mixing up Nat’s personal recipe for Moscow Mules. While she worked, she noticed a splash of milk left alone on one corner of the bar and frowned. Who would be mixing with milk? Unless…

“Hey, Nat? Wasn’t Loki drinking milk at dinner? That someone else brought to him?”

“Yes,” Nat confirmed, following her gaze to the spilled droplets. “I believe it was Steve who insisted he have something ‘good for the bones.’”

_**~*~*~*~*~*~** _

Darcy shook her head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it had come. “No,” she insisted. “No way I’m following that thought train.” She reached for a napkin and dragged it over the spot of milk. Apparently someone had spilled some Blue Curacao at some point, too. She wiped it up as well and tucked the napkin in her pocket rather than try to hunt for which fancy object was a cleverly disguised trash can.

“Maybe we should check out some of the rooms upstairs?” Natasha suggested, stepping behind the bar to pour their Moscow Mules out herself. She handed one to Darcy and steered her toward the elevator with a hand on the small of her back. “I can hear everyone else puttering about down here. Let’s just get away and find some peace.”

They passed by both Clint and Carol on their way to the elevator. They were headed off in opposite directions. Other dinner guests were shouting at one another from various places, and Darcy was pretty sure she heard a vase smash to the floor as the elevator doors whooshed shut. She took a deep pull from her cocktail and rested her head against the wall while Nat directed JARVIS to take them up a level.

“Maybe this is just another bit of Loki’s bullshit,” she sighed. “That would make all this easier, right? If he did it to himself.”

“Hmmm.” Beside her Nat took another deep sip of the booze. “Maybe he jumped down the throat of Carol’s Flerken. That would be dramatic.”

_**~*~*~*~*~*~** _

The elevator doors opened on the upper floor, and Darcy took Natasha’s hand. 

“Exactly Loki’s kind of drama,” she agreed, “but I don’t think he could talk Goose into doing anything.” She swung their hands and sipped from her cocktail while they made their way down the hall to the bedroom only to stop short the second they crossed the threshold. 

The room was completely trashed. The pillows had been tossed off the bed in all directions. One lamp was laid over on its side. There was no sense to be made of how the blankets and sheets were distributed because they couldn’t be told apart.

“Carol though,” Darcy muttered, still a bit stunned. “Carole could get that cat-wannabe to do anything.”

_**~*~*~*~*~*~** _

Natasha let go of Darcy’s hand and produced a pocket camera from her belt. She moved around the room, careful not to disturb any of the mess as she got pictures from multiple angles. One of the pillows was partially shredded, feathers scattered all over the place.

“Can you think of anyone else that might be able to convince the Flerken to take a bite out of someone?” Natasha asked, gracefully dropping to one knee while she took a photo of the cracked wooden board beneath the mattress.

“I don’t know,” Darcy admitted. “Goose is a little picky.” She thought hard, flipping in her mind through all the other faces that had been at the dinner table that night. “Valkyrie, maybe? I think I’ve seen her pet him without getting that weird Lucifer noise. But wouldn’t she go for her sword? She could easily do this kind of damage with that blade.”

_**~*~*~*~*~*~** _

“Ladies,” JARVIS interrupted, drawing both women’s attention. “It may interest you to know that the damage in this room is no more related to Loki’s untimely death than the scorch marks in the lounge.”

“J-man,” Darcy demanded, “if this isn’t a murder scene what the hell is it?”

“I believe that Sir and Miss Potts were in here for some time prior to their date this evening.”

“Oh, eew.” Darcy knocked more of her drink back. “Could have gone my whole life without knowing they get this wild and now we need to get out of here.” Though Nat was laughing at her a bit, Darcy noticed that she didn’t exactly hesitate to escape Tony’s boudoir. Two steps into the hall, Darcy clapped her hand against Nat’s bicep, her eyes drawn upward. “Babe.”

Nat followed her gaze. “Darcy, no. Clint would never.”

“I know he’s your biffle and all, but surely you know that Clint isn’t the only one that hangs out in the vents,” Darcy insisted. “I was thinking Bucky. I’ve seen him up there before.”

“And he has the skill to make anything a weapon.” Nat nodded, eyes focused on the vent grate. “He could have murdered him with his own helmet and made it look like an accident.”

_**~*~*~*~*~*~** _

The idea struck Darcy like a bolt of lightning. 

“No,” she told Nat. “Not the horns. And not the vents. We’ve got to get back downstairs and get everyone together.” With a flick of her wrist she downed the rest of her Moscow Mule. “JARVIS, get them all to meet us in the bar.”

Within ten minutes everyone was assembled with drinks in hand. Darcy placed herself behind the safety of the bar with Nat by her side, ready to defend if this went poorly. She took a deep breath, pushed one hand into her pocket, and prepared for what might be the most dangerous information reveal of her life. She had a big speech prepared. It was going to be a proper reveal, just like in all those fancy mystery movies she loved to watch, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t make her muscles work to pull the damning evidence—the droplets of Flerken drool she’d wiped from the bar with the spilled milk—out of her pocket. So, she went for the short and sweet delivery.

“Bucky killed him. Here in the bar.” She took a shot to steady her nerves. “And he used Goose to do it.”

She expected retaliation. Or at least denial. What she didn’t expect as the rest of the room erupted into loud speculation was for Bucky to just lean back against a wall across the room and smile at her. And she definitely didn’t expect to have another Moscow Mule placed in her hand by the victim of the night’s heinous crime when he materialized beside her behind the bar.

“Oh, well done, Miss Lewis,” Loki complimented as he turned away and started mixing drinks for the lot of them. “Sergeant Barnes,” he called over the cacophony, causing everyone in the room to turn and stare at him. “I believe I owe you some money.” He continued pouring drinks, setting one before each of them before regarding their stunned faces with annoyance. “I don’t know why you’re all looking at me like I’m the villain in this situation. The good sergeant was just as culpable, and we were only trying to liven up a dreadfully boring night.”


End file.
